| geert lovink on 6 Feb 2001 01:20:15 -0000 |
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| <nettime> review of thomas frank's one market under god (by naomi klein) |
(has anyone on nettime read already read frank's book? I am curious.
best, geert)
New Statesman (London) | www.newstatesman.co.uk
05 February 2001
<http://www.consider.net/forum_new.php3?newTemplate=OpenBookObject&newTop=200102050045&newDisplayURN=200102050045>
Book Reviews - Voting with your wallet. After a huge propaganda
campaign, the stock market is now seen as noble and democratic in its
promise of riches for everyone. Naomi Klein on the myth of the
People's Market
One Market Under God
Thomas Frank Secker and Warburg, 425pp, £18.99
ISBN 0436276194
How did investment become a hobby for little old ladies in the
American Midwest, rivalling even bingo? How did stock tickers become
more ubiquitous on television than weather forecasts? And whose idea
was it to market day trading as an extreme sport - something you would
want to do on your PalmPilot from a mountaintop in the Himalayas?
One Market Under God is the story of the mass-marketing of the market.
Thomas Frank, one of America's most scathing cultural critics, argues
that the market is no longer seen simply as a way to get rich, but as
a much nobler entity: a quasi-socialist income redistribution scheme
and an infinitely responsive, never-ending town-hall meeting. For many
Americans, the market has become the primary political sphere,
obscuring all others - from unions to community organising to politics
itself. Likes and dislikes, approval and disapproval, protests and
endorsements: all are now expressed almost exclusively by "voting with
your wallet".
This book is about a powerful consensus - suffocating in America, and
almost as dominant in Britain - which holds that the interests of the
market are indistinguishable from the interests of the public. What's
good for the Dow is good for society, even if stock prices are buoyed
by the formation of a new cartel that will erode consumer choice, and
even if the market celebrates fresh statistics about stagnant wages in
the middle of an economic boom. Frank calls this conflation of
capitalism with the public will "market populism", and sets out to
answer a deceptively simple question: how did the market become us?
His thesis is that the stock market became the voice of the people
through a process of mock-revolution. According to the script of this
alleged revolt - as pieced together by Frank from management seminars,
advertisements for online trading, articles in Wired magazine, and
zany business books - the proletariat has, in under a decade,
overthrown the pinstriped corporate suits who used to control all the
money. This revolution was fought not by anti- capitalism protesters,
but by "regular people" who oppose "elitism" in the capitalist class.
And the happy results are already in: we now have democratic
capitalism, a stronger and more pervasive role for the market than
ever before. Frank calls it the "People's Market", after that other
great icon of faux populism, the People's Princess.
In Frank's telling, the pseudo revolution has been waged on many
fronts. Much of it has involved simply recasting the market, so that
it is no longer a world of old white guys in suits and is now willing
to accommodate, and indeed celebrate, infinite diversity. The face of
business, as seen in ads on CNN and CNBC, is multiracial, casual, cool
and, above all, young. More than that, the face of business has been
remade to be actively anti-business, contemptuous of all that came
before, and determined to break with every tradition.
The overwhelming message of the past decade was that riches were no
longer for the rich only; they were for everyone. Better still,
getting rich was easy: 15-year-olds were doing it messing around on
their laptops; your next-door neighbour did it by reading mass-market
self-help books; and semi-literate people did it by polling the
audience on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?. As Frank documents, the
task of market populism was not to make everybody rich, but to
convince a majority of people that they were about to become very
rich.
The more often these stories were told, however unrepresentative they
were, the more people decided to try their luck on the stock market
(last year, 49 per cent of US citizens owned stock). This was cast not
as a measure of Americans' loss of faith in social security and
pensions, but as a populist victory for "Main Street USA"; "regular
people" - a staple in mutual fund ads - were getting a piece of the
big city action. For Generation X, meanwhile, investing wasn't pitched
as ordinary, but extraordinary: rather than trusting their future to
stuffy brokerage firms, they were - remarkably! daringly! - going at
it by DIY, cutting out the middleman and trading their stocks online.
According to magazines such as Fast Company and Business 2.0,
investing wasn't buying into the system; it was cashing out, a way to
get rich without ever having to work for The Man.
At which point, the populist spiral became self-fulfilling: the more
people who owned stocks, the more plausible it was to argue that the
market was democratic, a supreme form of self- government. "Markets
were not merely organs of exchange," Frank writes; "they were a
never-ending election . . . a combination voting booth and prosperity
machine for the common man."
Add to that the influence of e-commerce and you have a regular coup
d'etat. Thanks to new technologies, goes this flattering fairy tale,
there now exists a race of "super-empowered indi- viduals", a "digital
generation" who have multinational corporations quaking at their every
click. These people don't wait for companies to give them what they
want; they demand it from eBay and Video-on-Demand. The new consumers
are not spectators, but participants, writes Frank, with the sarcasm
that will be familiar to readers of his journal, the Baffler; they are
not buyers, but de facto producers. Just as the stock market has been
recast as a voting booth, the online shopping mall has become a site
of popular control, with regular people in the driver's seat once
again.
All of this populist rhetoric has had a profound effect not just on
economics, but on politics, too. Because market populism has us voting
with our dollars many times a day, when (and if) we get around to
voting with our ballot papers, it has tended, at least in the US, to
be for candidates promising to give our money back to us. This, too,
was cast as a triumph of the little people: the more money left in our
pockets, the more we have to spend expressing our true will in the
market place. According to this theory, to interfere in the people's
market - with taxation, government regulation, union organising - is
to be a terrible elitist, scornful of "the people" and their choices.
Meanwhile, politi- cians who place a Zen-like trust in the market
enact a kind of laissez-faire participatory democracy.
As if the internet and day trading weren't enough to prove that the
market had an umbilical connection to our souls, along came
"branding". Suddenly, corporations weren't just selling products and
image, they were selling democracy, community, empowerment. "The
brand, in short, was us," Frank writes. And if we ever started to
think otherwise, we were pulled back into the fold with more populist
folk stories. Come now, said the brand managers, gather round the
corporate campfire and hear the one about how the Nike empire was
started by a couple of guys selling shoes from the back of their car.
Or about how Bill Gates used not to get any respect from the suits.
Frank's argument is an important contribution to the discussion about
how to rein in corporate power; many anti-corporate critics argue in
favour of public-interest regulation on the grounds that corporations
are accountable only to their shareholders, rather than to the public
at large. One Market Under God documents a huge - and extraordinarily
successful - propaganda campaign that has taught millions of people to
stop thinking of themselves as citizens, and even as workers, and to
begin thinking of themselves primarily as shareholders.
This idea of collective ownership is an illusion. As "the people" were
storming Wall Street, their jobs were being casualised and wealth was
being concentrated into fewer and fewer hands, an upward transfer of
prosperity that Frank describes as "a gigantic heave-ho". This is not
new information, but Frank's analysis of market populism helps explain
how a huge PR campaign touting our fantastic empowerment and imminent
riches made these disparities socially acceptable.
What is not clear is how long this illusion can hold. One Market Under
God is the anatomy of a boom, and of the tulip-mania that always
accompanies such economic moments. But how deep does the mass
identification with the interests of the market run? It is easy to
love the market in good times, but what happens when things go bad, as
now seems rather likely? There are some signs of an imminent
disassociation. In his inaugural speech, George W Bush felt the need
to urge Americans to seek "a common good beyond your comfort" - a
shocking admission that the pursuit of our individual comforts is not
itself the creation of the common good. Still, the only heartfelt
applause came when he said those two magic words: "tax cuts".
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